i still believe in heroes
by claraoswalds
Summary: "I'm not a hero, Ginny. Heroes don't exist." - Harry and Ginny, one lonely night the summer he fell in love with her.


**disclaimer:** i own nothing. set the summer before sixth year, which i know is mostly all happy and fluffy but i figured harry might still have some problems with the prophecy soo yeah enjoy.

**dedicated to:** summer (potterdex) for being totally ridiculously awesome and funny and loving harry/ginny because it is better than your ship sorry to say. also i haven't written her a proper fic which is stupid.

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The thing about running is that someone always finds you. It doesn't matter where or when or how, but someone will find you. And when it comes to Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley is determined to at least try to be that somebody.

"I'm going out," she tells her mother, grabbing Hermione's favorite blue coat without bothering to ask permission because it's not like Hermione is going to stop bickering with Ron to notice anyone else any time soon.

"Out? Ginny, it's almost dark!" Molly protests, but Ginny is already halfway out the door because _Harry is missing_ and how is she the only one who's noticed.

"I'm going to find Harry," she says in the tone of voice that even the twins know to listen to. Her mother doesn't seem particularly impressed by her determination, but then again, her mother is who she learned it from.

"He'll come back soon, he only went for a walk," Molly tries assuring her, but Ginny shakes her head.

"I'll be home before midnight," she promises over her shoulder, tucking her wand into her boot and closing the door behind her. She hears her mother sigh, and then a click as the door is locked.

"Harry," she breathes once she's far outside her home, "Harry, where are you?"

-:-

The thing about searching for someone is that you have to know them to know where they might be. Ginny's been told stories about Harry Potter all her life, but sometimes, she still doubts if she knows him. She's not Ron, she's not Hermione, and all she's got is the layout of Ottery St. Catchpole in her mind and Gryffindor willpower.

It's not much to go on, and it takes her an hour and thirty-five minutes, but she finds him by the river. The sun has almost finished its descent down the horizon and evening breezes have made a mess of her hair, but he's there, good as gold, on the riverbank.

"Harry," she says, but he doesn't move.

Ginny hesitates, wrapping Hermione's blue coat tighter around herself to protect from the winds, and then moves forward. It takes five steps and ten breaths, but she reaches his side and drops down onto the damp grass.

"You can't run forever," she tells him, and her voice is crackling in the stillness of the evening air.

He laughs. Almost. It's short and mostly humorless, but it's a laugh.

"I didn't mean to run," he says finally. "I wanted to walk. Clear my mind. Somehow, I ended up here."

She can tell he's in one of those moods where his entire being is focused on the war and the deaths and the heartbreak he's suffered, so she stays quiet. He's Harry Potter, and if he's meant to save them all, she thinks the least she can do is let him think about what he has to do.

-:-

The thing about silence is that it starts eating away at you. So she speaks, "This used to be my favorite place to come when I was a little girl."

Harry tilts his head to look at her. His eyes are startingly green in the last, desperate rays of sunlight. "Was it really? Your parents allowed you to just wander out here?"

She smiles, a touch wistfully. "It was different back then, remember? Safer. I – I never lived through the war."

"Neither did I," he points out, his shoulder lightly bumping hers. It's a sign, at least, that he's getting better, coming out of that dark place he was in when she found him there.

"Of course not," Ginny says, turning to face him. "You ended it, remember?"

His face brightens in a smile, then darkens just as quickly. "I have to end this one, too."

"Yeah," she agrees, because there's no point in protesting the obvious. Her hand reaches out, almost of its own accord, and covers his. "But you don't have to do it alone."

Harry looks at her, really looks at her, his eyes a darker shade of emerald than she's ever seen before. "You haven't heard the prophecy, Ginny."

"I don't need some stupid prophecy to tell me my fate!" she says heatedly. "I'm not _Voldemort_. I'm not going to let a bloody crystal ball control my life. Are you?"

"Ginny," he sighs, "you don't get — "

"Shut up," she says, rolling her eyes. "_You_ don't get it. When the day comes, I'll be fighting with you. At your side. Just like Ron, just like Hermione, just like everyone worth a damn in our entire world. That's my fate. And I decided it _on my own_."

He's silent for a moment, his gaze shifting back to the river as it flows. "You could die."

His voice breaks. Ginny intertwines their fingers, holding on as tightly as she can.

"I trust you," she tells him softly. "You'll win."

"I'm not a hero, Ginny," he says bitterly. "Heroes don't exist."

She inhales, exhales, breathes. "And how long have you spent here working that bit of wisdom out, Harry Potter?" High above, the stars seem to be laughing at her. She'd like nothing more, in that moment, than to curse them out of the sky.

"Long enough."

-:-

"The thing about heroes, Harry, is that even if they don't exist, they're still a source of hope," she tells him on the walk back to the Burrow.

He's got his hands in his pockets and his head bowed as if the grass beneath their feet is just so tremendously interesting, but he still jumps at her voice. They're half-way home, and it's the first time either of them have spoken.

"You shouldn't put your faith in me, still," he mutters after a pregnant pause. "How do you know I'm worth it? How do you know I'll win?"

Ginny takes a deep breath. "You're Harry," she says simply, running her hands through her hair and thinking how, in the moonlight, the red looks rather like blood. "I _do_ have faith in you. You can't stop me from that, you know."

A low chuckle surprises her. "I suppose not," he agrees. "And Ginny?"

"Yeah?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. It's so dark, so quiet out here now that anything louder feels like uneven, like a disturbance of nature's peace. She's never been out here late enough to feel that way, and never with someone else, but she feels better knowing Harry's at her side.

His hand on her forearm stops her in her tracks. She turns, looking at him, brown eyes into green. It's funny how even in the darkness of the night she can see the bright color of his eyes.

"I'm glad you found me."

-:-

The thing about goodbyes is that she only likes them when they're not permanent. So she walks him to his room where Ron is fast asleep because it's dark and she likes being near him. He doesn't seem to mind, and by the time they escape Molly's fussing in the kitchen, he's almost smiling.

"Hey, Harry," she says as he stops in the doorway to his room and she stops in front of it while Ron's snores fill the air.

"Yeah?" he asks absently, turning around and leaning against the door frame so he can face her.

Ginny smiles at him. "I still believe in heroes."

It takes him a minute, but he smiles back.

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**a/n:** not really sure what this is, but i hope you like it and please please please review so i know what i did right and what i did wrong and how to improve (i'm sorry i'm incoherent at 1 in the morning) and really just _please_ review, thanks!

and **DON'T** favorite without reviewing, please and thank you.


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